


sporadically (once in a while)

by Anonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - America, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Virginity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:35:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21892255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Aziraphale is a virgin who can’t drive.Crowley’s the perpetually-around ex-stepbrother who offered to give him driving lessons...and then other lessons.(The Clueless AU nobody asked for.)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 88
Collections: Anonymous





	sporadically (once in a while)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing anything even close to explicit content; I hope it’s alright. 
> 
> For context, this is only loosely inspired by Clueless, and because it’s so short that will probably only be recognizable to people who’ve seen the movie. One major difference is that the characters in this have been aged up so they’re both in college and over 18. 
> 
> Also, the scene where Crowley admits his feelings is definitely based on the scene when Cher and Josh kiss at the end of the movie Clueless, so I’d like to give credit for that.

_I’m going to hell,_ Crowley thinks, letting his head fall back against the seat of the Bentley and sparing a halfhearted thought on hoping that there won’t be stains after this. 

He knows he should probably feel even guiltier than he does for allowing Aziraphale—lovely, virginal, too-good-for-him Aziraphale—to coax him into thinking this was a good idea, but Crowley’s already poor self-discipline had been useless against Aziraphale asking so hopefully for something that Crowley has always (secretly, quietly, desperately) wanted to give him. If Crowley is not worthy of Aziraphale, that is something to brood over later, when he doesn’t have the man he’s been pining after for years sitting halfway in his lap giving Crowley the most intense handjob he’s ever had. 

_How is he so good at this?_ Crowley thinks, in the part of his brain that hasn’t been reduced to mush. He wonders if his feelings for Aziraphale are amplifying the pleasure of Aziraphale’s hand on his cock. 

“Azss—” Crowley gasps; it comes out like a hiss. He’s achingly hard. 

Aziraphale looks up, not pausing his movements. “Am I doing this properly?” He bites his lip and adds, shy, “I’ve never tried it with, er, somebody else.”

Crowley’s so overwhelmed by a wave of lust and fondness for this exasperatingly endearing man that he thinks he might die—une petite mort, preferably. “You’re doing beautifully, angel.”

Aziraphale’s responding smile is radiant. It makes Crowley’s chest feel horribly tight. Crowley decides to make the traitorous fluttering of his heart shut up by pulling Aziraphale close and kissing him breathless. 

The story of how they’ve ended up here is complicated. They had shared a father at one point—or, to be more specific, Crowley’s mother, Lucy, had been briefly married to Aziraphale’s father before a series of bitter arguments led to an ugly divorce and Crowley moving with his mom halfway across the country to Texas, which was both hellishly hot compared to the mild weather he’d been used to and altogether too far away from Aziraphale. 

Crowley has been harboring a hopeless, stupid crush on Aziraphale for a length of time that honestly embarrassed him to think about. There had been a few years in high school when Crowley thought that the feelings may have gone away, but that illusion had been shattered when he’d moved back up north for college, learned that Aziraphale was—against all odds—going to the same university, and felt the infatuation come roaring back. 

And now...this. 

Crowley hadn’t meant for this to happen. His intentions had been genuinely (and uncharacteristically) pure when Aziraphale came home to the apartment they rented together looking upset—

“Gabriel and I got into an argument, and he said that I’m a virgin who can’t drive,” Aziraphale had told him, flushing pink, obviously mortified. 

Crowley had had to take deep breaths to stop himself from heading over to his other ex-stepbrother’s place to commit a murder. 

—and, instead of storming off to defend Aziraphale’s honor, Crowley said, “I can help you with that.”

Aziraphale’s eyes had widened. “You can?”

Crowley wasn’t sure why Aziraphale looked so flustered. “Why not? You can learn to drive the Bentley.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, sounding more composed, though his tone of voice was still a bit off. “Right. Yes. That would be amazing, Crowley. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Crowley said, bemused. 

They had started the driving lessons soon after that. Crowley had known from all of Aziraphale’s complaints about Crowley driving too fast that Aziraphale would be a cautious driver—“Of course I am,” Aziraphale had said when Crowley made a comment about it. “Do you know how many deaths each year are caused by traffic accidents?”—but Crowley hadn’t expected how much he would enjoy the time spent in close quarters with Aziraphale. 

He loved watching Aziraphale’s nose wrinkle when he turned the radio on and _Fat-Bottomed Girls_ started blaring and hearing Aziraphale’s delightfully snarky comments when other drivers made bad decisions and—to Crowley’s chagrin—he loved being around Aziraphale in the general sense. In the sense that he and Aziraphale could be sitting alone in a parked car without any music playing and Crowley would still still love it, because just being in Aziraphale’s vicinity was enough to make him feel giddy. 

That became relevant when Aziraphale chose a moment when he and Crowley were, in fact, sitting alone in a parked car to make the request that got them into their current situation. 

They had finished practicing parking in a lot in front of an abandoned grocery store they’d driven out of the city to find. Before Crowley could suggest that they drive back to their apartment, Aziraphale had turned to him and said, nervous, “There’s something else I want to ask for your help with.”

Crowley didn’t like the way the idea of whatever it was had made Aziraphale shaky-voiced and anxious. “What is it?”

Aziraphale fidgeted. “I appreciate all of the work you’ve put into teaching me to drive,” he said, earnest. “You’re a wonderful teacher.”

Crowley shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the praise. He waited for Aziraphale to go on.

“I was just thinking,” Aziraphale said, glancing down at his hands and then back up at Crowley. “That I can drive now, but I haven’t addressed the—other thing.”

_Other thing?_ Crowley’s brow furrowed. 

Then he got it. And he felt as if the car had suddenly gotten much smaller; the space separating him from Aziraphale in particular seemed to have evaporated. Were they always sitting so close? 

(The words _virgin who can’t drive_ played over in Crowley’s head in perfect clarity.)

Aziraphale gave Crowley a hopeful smile. “I hope I haven’t just made things awkward. Would you be willing to teach me about…” Aziraphale’s face went red. Crowley thought it was adorable that he could make such a bold request and still seem flustered by it. “...that?”

Crowley cleared his throat. He thought of several very good reasons why he should say no, including the probability that Aziraphale didn’t know about Crowley’s sappy unrequited feelings and was just asking because he trusted Crowley to be understanding and discreet. But eventually—inevitably—Crowley gave in to the part of him mentally shouting _YES_ and said, “Are you sure about this?”

And now here they are, Aziraphale pressed up against Crowley’s chest and running his hands through Crowley’s hair, probably messing it up beyond saving. And Crowley has the lip he’d just seen Aziraphale biting between his own teeth, a thought that sends a rush of heat through him. 

Aziraphale shifts, reaching back down to resume what he’d been doing—

—and Crowley stutters out, “Wait.”

Aziraphale immediately stops. He sits back, dropping his hands to his sides, and Crowley’s heart twists when he sees how disheveled Aziraphale looks: his hair is sticking up at the back; his lips look kissed; his eyes are blown dark. 

“I’m sorry,” Crowley says, miserable. “I can’t do this. You’re been incredible, honestly, full marks, ten out of ten, but…this can’t happen. I shouldn’t have let things get this far. You’re so—sweet, and good, and you deserve better than whatever this is.”

“You think I’m sweet?” Aziraphale asks, soft. He leans a little closer to Crowley, who notices that if he shifted his hand a couple inches to the left it would brush against Aziraphale’s. 

Crowley huffs a self-conscious laugh. “C’mon, angel. You know you’re sweet. You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met. You’re so kind to everyone—even if they don’t deserve it—” Aziraphale picks up on the way Crowley’s alluding to himself and frowns, displeased. “—and I’d be an idiot not to love you.”

Crowley freezes. Fuck. He hadn’t meant to say that. “I mean—”

Aziraphale beams at him, and by degrees Crowley’s sudden icy fear of rejection thaws away. Aziraphale keeps smiling that warm, soft smile and says, “I love you, too, Crowley.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts :)
> 
> This was supposed to be a one-shot, but I’ve changed the status to multi-chaptered because I feel like there’s a lot left to explore here. I think I may write a continuation from Aziraphale’s POV.


End file.
